your arrival in a new contry often sets the tone for the whole trip.
from that pont of view,my cycling trip in guinea in west africa was going to be a disaster.
for one thing, my bicycle was missing. it was a special bicycle from canda that i planned to ride around the contry for six months. while my plane had landed safely my bicycle wasn't on it!
then i made the mistake of changing money at night in the baskseat of a taxi. a barefoot boy wearing rags had climbed into the taxi,holding stacks of smelly guinean francs.
i couldn't remember the exchange rate, and the little ragamuffin cheated me out of 40$.
suddenly,a chubby police officer filled the open window. he put his massive hand in front of my face and said in french,"give me five thousand frances!"
i pretended not to understand him until my terrified taxi driver hit the ga and zoomed away.
the next day,after paying seven or eight bribe at the airport,i finally got my bicycle. o was happy until i saw its wheels.they were bent and twisted like pretzels,and i'd only been in
guinea for two days!
what went wrong next was almost a civil war. a man named foufana attacked a town in the south with his rebel army.many people were killed,and i saw pictures of the bodies on the front pages of local newspapers.
i began to wonder why i was in guinea. i 'd chosen to come this ex-french colony largely because few people had heared about it,and even fewer had visited it. well, i wanted adventure, and i got it.
i spent my first two weeks exploring conakry,guinea's colourful capital city.
while there,i met refugees, foreign mercenaries, and an inadian shopkeeper who gave me lessons in dealing with corrupt solders.then,on christman day, i got o my bicycle and cycled north into the fouta djallon mountains.
these mountains were another reason i'd come to guinea. more than anything, i enjoyed cycling on mountain roads and visting remote villages. in one mountain village,i helped to build a traditional thatch hut and then lived in it for five days.
in another village,i visited the local mosque. it was the end of ramadan,and i gave the traditional donation of ricento the poor. guinea was the first muslim country i'd ever visited.
from the striking fouta djallon mountains, i cycled east and south into a very wild part of guinea. the tropical sun beat down on my head, and soldiers stopped me every few kilometers. the soldiers threatened to arrest me unless i gave them money.
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